a poem for a winter’s day, snowed in (part two)

. . . . . .the morning broke and the sunshine peeked in through the drawn curtain.  the smell of eggs scrambled with fresh,  green and red bell peppers, crisp turkey bacon, toast browning, and freshly ground  italian coffee; it all filled the air.  i plate it up and arrange it on a tray, accompanied by a jar of raspberry jam and a glass of milk. and as i walk towards the bedroom entry door, the dog follows,  wagging his tail,  happy and hoping that he will get a taste of a human breakfast.   i ,oh-so  carefully balance the tray with the one hand and slowly open the door with the other, trying my best not to tip the tray, and feeding the dog everyone’s breakfast.  the wooden door quietly squeaks and there you are, sprawled out on the bed, covered in comforters, staying warm.  as you see me with the breakfast you quickly jump out of your cocoon and position your back on the headboard, all ready, for your tray.  i set it in front of you and the dog quickly, patiently sits besides the bed,  giving his begging eye look.  i quickly run back out to the kitchen, and i grab my tray, and carefully speed walk back to the bed, were we both sit nearly arm in arm,  and dig in our tasty breakfast.  the dog, still looking on,  raises one paw and nudges your elbow.  gently, with your morning voice, you tell him  to “go lay down”.  whimpering to his corner dog bed,  acting like his feelings are hurt,  you tell him “good boy”.  as we finish our last bites, you wipe you mouth off, with your white cottony napkins and offer to take in the dirty dishes to the kitchen, and as you do you kiss my cheek and thank me for the breakfast.  and when you are done, like a high jumper from the olympics, you get yourself a running start from the kitchen and up the hall and into the bedroom and jump up onto the bed, again, and i give you a five out of ten score, because your toe hit the corner post of the foot board,  not making it a clean jump.  you jokingly slap my arm, as a chuckle. // now that we ate, and are back into our comforter cocoon,  we lay there for a few, toes touching, holding feet.   we pull the sheets and comforter above our heads and we work off our breakfasts.  emerging from the sheets, our faces meet the cooling air on flushed flesh.  and once again our dog is sitting at attention by the side of the bed, wondering what just went on.  reaching for the remote,  turning on the telly , only to find that the cables out. so we look for movies to pass sometime.  we’ve seen them all,  and we pass on that idea.  looking down the hall i see that our dog is pawing at the door,  pleading to be let out.  we look at each other, as we both forgot the little part, to where he would be needing to go out.  pulling out the well-worn sweatpants, i slip them on,  no shirt and bundle my winter coat up to my chin.  i pull on my boots and leave them untied.  you laugh at my quick thinking outfit and tell me that “you wouldn’t be caught dead outside this cabin with me looking like this!”,  and i turn smiling, and say,  “well, it’s a good thing that we are snowed in, then?,  isn’t it?”  as you throw a pillow at me,  barely making fifteen feet to my feet,  and quickly telling  you that you must play for the chicago cubs.  laughing,  i head to the door and  grab the only local shovel around…the fireplace ash shovel.  looking at it,  chuckling and saying it’ll do.  luckily the snow really wasnt that high by the area around the door, thanks largely to the winds, drifting the snow of to the side of the cabin.  feeling like a big dork, here i am, shoveling a large area, for my dog, with this ash shovel.  after about thirty or so minutes,  a shoveled area big enough for our dog, is done.  i gently toss the shovel on the cabins floor and start to take off my winters jacket.  i make a pit stop at the bathroom, and toss water on my face and up to my elbows and dry off,  with the soft hand towel.  i retreat back to the bedroom because as i called out your name to tell you that i was done, there was no response.  i opened the door only to find you lounged out on the bed, waiting.  a foolish grin can across your face, and i quickly closed the bedroom door behind me.  i thought for sure, that if we were outside, ourselves, we could have melted all the snow, quicker than what the sun was doing.  once again we emerge from our comforter cocoon and i re open the door, and head to the fireplace.  we find ourselves in the company of the fireplace.  slipping on your pj’s,  you bring over a game of monopoly, and set it up on the table by the fire.  i return to the kitchen and quickly make us a cup of coffee, and bring it along side the games board.  as the game goes on, the light outside grows more dim, as the light inside grows a little brighter.  the dog, in front of the fire, is curled up, fast asleep.  and as i land my racecar token on your boardwalk, only with four houses, you win.  as you do a little victory dance, i bow my head, shake it and laugh.  she always wins and i don’t mind.  because seeing her face smile,  it’s all worth the loss.  there in the dimming outside light,  burning candles illuminate brighter.  we quickly grab some dinner of lunch meat sandwiches and chips and talk.  and after being together,  i still could sit and listen to her and never get tired.  the way she speaks, the calming of her voice,  i still  get nervous and very tongue-tied when i have to answer her.  and i think she understands.  and because she understands,  she never makes me feel little or unequaled because of it. //   inside, warm and cozy. there we are,  wrapped inside a mix of blankets, face to face with  the cobblestone fireplace.  the logged wall of the wooded cabin, all darkened,  all for the exception of the flickering light,  orange and yellow.  a soft glow.  a soft crackle,  a loud pop of embers.  winter night, hold you tight,  i need you.  caring, sensitive, affectionate, passionate.  lights off,  fire glow, afterglow.  the beating of one’s heart, when the other looks into the others eyes,  desire grows.  i need you. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

c.2013 BGW

About bradford graham west

enjoy poetry about life, emotion and everything in between. it's real and true. - please read and enjoy! - bgw
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